


Bros before Hoes

by crazynadine



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Boys Kissing, Cheating, Coworkers - Freeform, Drinking, F/M, Gay Sex, Homophobic Language, Ian is just out of the army, Light Angst, Living in the Closet, M/M, Mickey is a mechanic, Mutual Pining, Some cannon elements, The Alibi Room, Top Ian Gallagher, Work buddies - Freeform, crushing from afar, faking heterosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 17:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15491265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynadine/pseuds/crazynadine
Summary: Based on a facebook prompt:Ian and Mickey work together.They are both very much in the closet and unwilling to admit to themselves or anyone else that they are gay. They go out after a long day at work to blow off some steam at the bar. They end up spending the entire night complaining about their girlfriends, and bonding over their shared south side roots. The evening takes an unexpected turn at the end of the night, and neither boy will ever be the same.





	Bros before Hoes

**Author's Note:**

> so this prompt was fun, and as usual it turned out a LOT longer than i anticipated. but it came out just as i'd hoped. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.
> 
> as usual, i am a one-man band, so any typos or other manner of annoying shit is on me and me alone.

Mickey's life is not what he expected it to be. It's both better, and worse than he anticipated. Better, because he's not in jail, his dad is gone, and he has a legit job. He paid his bills, took care of shit like a grown up, and didn't totally hate his life, so there's that. But worse because he's still not free. Still not able to be himself, still not comfortable in his own skin. Still living a lie.

Mickey knows he's gay. His wife knows he's gay. His siblings may or may not have an inclination. But that's as far as it goes. Mickey is still deep in the closet, paralyzed by fear and self hatred. Sometimes he wishes things were different, but he doesn't know how to change anything. He's not the kind of guy to spout off about how he feels. He doesn't share shit with anyone. No one really knows him. That never used to bother him, but as he gets older, the lie gets more tiresome. Waking up everyday in a house that doesn't feel like a home, next to a person he's married to that he doesn't love. He never thought he'd care about shit like that, he'd been a loner most of his life. But he's starting to feel like he's suffocating. 

He rolls over in bed, eyes trained on the ceiling. Svetlana is asleep on the other side of the bed, her slow steady breathing the only sound in the room. Mickey sighs, sitting up and placing his feet on the cold floor. He grabs his cigarettes of the bedside table, lighting one quickly as he stands from the bed. Svetlana doesn't stir as he walks around the room, stripping off his boxers and making his way to the bathroom for a shower. 

He hates sharing a room with his wife. They'd moved into separate bedrooms as soon as Terry got locked up, but now that they are renovating their shithole house, there is drywall and plywood in the Mandy's old room, gallons upon gallons of paint cans in Iggy's, and Terry's is full of all the garbage and nasty shit Mickey has to bring to the dump. (Mickey thinks it's fitting to put all the Milkovich trash in Terry's room.) So, while the house is in full on reno-mode, Mickey and Svetlana are stuck sharing a bed again, no matter how uncomfortable it makes them both. 

The bathroom looks different. Svetlana has been making a lot of changes once they decided to renovate the house. Ever since his old man got locked up for stabbing some random guy in a bar fight, and they were sure he was never coming back, she'd gotten more comfortable around the house. Fixing shit that had been broken since Mickey was a child, painting and adding these stupid little feminine touches to everything. Mickey thought it was kind of dumb, considering they wouldn't be around to enjoy it, but it's not worth the argument. 

That's why Mickey had a purple shower curtain. Fucking purple. And a glass bowl full of seashells on the back of the toilet. Mickey rolls his eyes every time he walks into the bathroom, and this morning is no different. He finishes his smoke, tossing the butt into toilet. He turns on the shower and brushes his teeth while he waits for the water to heat up. 

Mickey likes his job, so he doesn't mind waking up early. He never thought he'd be a nine to five kind of guy. Working for a living, paying taxes. That shit just doesn't happen for Milkovichs. But during his last stint in juvie, when he was precariously close to his eighteenth birthday, he'd gotten selected for a special program that taught the delinquents a trade, so when they hit the streets they didn't automatically resort back to a life of crime. Rehabilitation, that's what they called it. 

Mickey called it a life line. If it wasn't for that program, he knows where he'd be today. He'd probably still be pulling armed robberies and B&E's. He'd probably be pimping out his wife to keep the lights on and cracking skulls when someone tried to run out on their drug debt. Shit his father taught him to do. Shit he hated doing. 

Mickey may have been a criminal for most of his life, but he doesn't miss it at all. He never had that blood lust that drove Terry. He liked a good fight just as much as the next guy, but he didn't want his whole life to be violence and incarceration. So when the state offered him and out, he jumped at the chance. 

That's how Mickey ended up where he is now. Working as a mechanic at Otto's Autos. The name was stupid as fuck, but Otto was a good guy. Didn't give a shit about Mickey's last name, or his knuckle tats. The only thing he cared about was Mickey's skill with a wrench, and his dedication to the work. 

Mickey was good at his job, and he enjoyed it. That was more than Mickey ever hoped to dream for. 

The job may be good, but the rest of his life was shit. The wife he has sleeping in the bed a few feet away is a testament to that. Mickey doesn't know why they don't just end it already. He knows, logically that they have a plan, and a timeline, but sometimes he thinks it's not worth it. Neither of them are happy. 

He found himself smiling as he stepped into the shower, despite his black mood. The water was hot, gloriously hot. Mickey will never take hot water for granted. Something so simple, but it's still a novelty to him, growing up the way he had. He sighs, turning his back to the spray as he grabs up the shampoo to wash his hair. 

As Mickey rinses his hair and picked up the soap to wash his body, he let his mind wander away from his bleak home life and onto something more pleasant. 

He promised himself he wouldn't do this anymore, but he's weak when it comes to this shit and he can't help but grasp at any form of relief he can get. 

He can feel his body tightening up as he lets himself get lost in his fantasy of red hair and bulging muscles. 

The thing is, Mickey works with this really hot guy. Ian Gallagher has been at the shop for about six months now. He's not a grease monkey like Mickey and the other guys. He works in the office, and looks hot as hell in his button down shirt and tie. He's probably the hottest guy Mickey's ever seen. 

Not that Mickey would ever tell him that, or anyone else. Because Ian is not only his coworker, but he's from the neighborhood, and he's straight. Just like Mickey is, as far as anyone else knows. 

But none of that shit matters when it's just Mickey alone in the shower. He can be whoever he wants at these times, and fantasize about whatever he wants. No one will ever have to know. 

Mickey hangs his head as he grabs his hard cock and starts stroking. It's crazy, just thinking about Gallagher in his stupid work attire gets Mickey harder than memories of actual sexual encounters he's had. 

Mickey stifles a moan as he jerks off, thinking about what it would feel like to be pinned by Ian and fucked against this cool tile wall. He can almost feel that broad chest pressed against his back, those huge hands gripping his hips. 

He rocks into his fist, his head falling back as he nears his climax. His breath stutters and his eyes pinch shut as his orgasm crashes over him, just as the bathroom door flies open, shattering the fantasy. 

"Fuck, what?" Mickey barks, feeling irritated and interrupted, his post orgasm glow dissipating like a fog. 

"You are not only one who needs bathroom." Svetlana spat irritably. "I have work also." 

"Fuck off." Mickey replied coolly. 

They didn't speak after that. Svetlana did whatever she had to do that was so pressing, and left the bathroom, leaving the door open. 

Mickey sighed, letting the guilt wash over him like it did every time he jerked off thinking of Gallagher. It was a fucked up thing to do, and Mickey hated himself for it. 

He needed to get laid. Maybe he'd hit up Grindr after work today. It was Friday, and he and Svetlana usually did their own separate things. They had an understanding. They each had their own life, but stayed in the marriage for practical purposes. Mickey wasn't ready to be out, so having a wife was the easiest cover. They split the bills and household responsibilities, so there was that. They had taken out a joint loan to cover the renovations, and were planning on splitting the proceeds from the sale of the house. 

And then there was the fact that Svetlana was illegal, and the marriage was her ticket to citizenship. Mickey agreed to do that for her, help her that way. They were never really friends, but they were allies, and that was enough for both of them, for the time being. 

The way they came together was horrific, but they've moved on from that, did their best to put it in the past, and tired to work together to better their situation. 

One day, they would part ways. But today was not that day. 

Mickey got out of the shower and made his way back to the bedroom, dressing quickly in his coveralls and grabbing his phone and cigarettes. He wandered out into the kitchen, where Svetlana had coffee ready. He poured himself a cup and sat at the kitchen table, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag. He sipped his coffee as he watched Svetlana flit around the kitchen, making her lunch that she always took with her to her job. 

Svetlana worked in a salon. She was a receptionist, in training to be a hairdresser or whatever. She seemed to like it. It was better than her last job. But anything would be better than getting fucked for money, Mickey supposes. 

"We must talk." Svetlana says, taking her seat across from Mickey. She's got a cup of coffee in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. She looks stressed out. 

"What?" Mickey asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. "Can it wait 'til I get home tonight? I gotta head out like right now."

"No, it cannot wait." Svetlana replied. Mickey looked up at her, only now noticing how strange she looked. Anxious and nervous. That was uncharacteristic for her. Nothing shook Svetlana, not after the life she lived. 

Mickey had hated Svetlana when they first met. He'd blamed her just as much as his father for what went down that day. 

Mickey had been stupid. That was the bottom line. He'd gotten comfortable enough with his fuck buddy to bring him home while Terry had been out of town on a drug run with Colin and Iggy. 

He'd been stupid enough to bring Dale to his house, to let Dale fuck him in his living room. He'd been stupid enough to think he could have something good. Something normal all eighteen year olds have. He'd just wrapped his two year bid and he was looking to relieve some stress.

It wasn't love with Dale. He was just a kid from down the block who bought coke from Mickey and happened to be gay too. It was a thing of convenience more than anything. The sex was good, and Dale knew how to keep his mouth shut, and those were the only two requirements Mickey had back then. 

They had been up all night, doing coke and fucking. It was fun, and Mickey had been pretty close to happy. 

So of course, his father had come home early. Of course his father had caught them. Of course his father had destroyed the one thing Mickey had in his life that brought him any sense of normalcy and contentment. 

Terry had beaten the shit out of them both. Leaving them bloody and broken. Mickey can still see the look on Dale's bloodied face when Terry put the gun under his chin. He can still see the tears streaming down his face when Terry called his pimp friend and had him send Svetlana over to 'fuck the faggot out of Mickey'. Mickey can still hear Dale's labored breathing as he sat on the chair and watched as Svetlana rode him. He can still hear the door slam shut behind Dale after it was all said and done. 

Mickey never saw Dale after that. He heard around the neighborhood that he'd gone to live with his dad in Memphis. Mickey doesn't blame him. He probably would've run too, if he'd had the option. 

What happened after that is all a blur of booze, drugs and denial. 

Svetlana telling Mickey and Terry that she was pregnant. Terry buying her out of her contract with her pimp, moving her into their house. The wedding. All of it feels like some kind of dream. Someone else's life. Someone else's nightmare. 

A few months later, Svetlana announced to the family that she'd had a miscarriage. Mickey suspects she had an abortion, but he never says that. He was relieved, in all honesty. Who knows if that kid was even his.

Not too long after that, Terry had killed that guy, and gotten locked up. Mickey and Svetlana had sat down and hashed out all their shit. They decided to keep up the sham marriage until Mickey could help her get her green card. Then they would divorce, split their assets, and go their separate ways. 

That was three years ago now, although it feels like a lifetime. 

So Mickey didn't hate her anymore. He has grown to respect her. So seeing her look so reticent to speak was jarring. 

"Jesus, just spit it out." he says, growing worried. 

"I want divorce." she said quietly. 

"You what?" Mickey asks, looking up. She looked legitimately scared. 

"I met someone." she says, steeling herself. "She is kind and actually loves me. I want divorce so I can be with her." 

"Her?" Mickey echoed. "Her who?" 

"Sarah." Svetlana replied. "From work." 

"Svet, we have a plan. We're supposed to pay the house off and sell it. We're supposed to pay off all our debt. We're supposed to wait until your immigration shit is settled." 

"I don't want to wait anymore." Svetlana replied. "I want to be happy now. I will figure out my green card with Sarah. I will live with her. I want to be with her."

"What about me?" Mickey asks, anger pulsing through his veins. "You're just going to leave me holding the bag? How am I supposed to pay for this house on my own? The fucking renovation we're in the middle of? I'm in school right now. How am I supposed to pay for technical school, and pay the mortgage and the car note and all the other fucking bills by myself?" Mickey was seething. This was not what they agreed to. He and Svet had had this plan since the beginning of their marriage. 

Two more years. It would only take two more years to figure this shit out. Then she'd be a citizen, and the house would finished and paid off, and Mickey would be a certified mechanic. That was the plan. 

And Svetlana had to go and fuck it all up. She was in love? What a fucking joke. Love was a trap, and she fell right in. She was going to throw away years or hard work and sacrifice for the slim chance of a 'happily ever after'? 

"I don't mean to put you in a bad spot, Mickey. We will figure out the money, and I will still help with renovation. This is the right thing, for me and you. You will see that." she said lowly. "You know I care for you. But this arrangement has run it's course." 

"I'm so glad we came to this decision together." Mickey growled, pushing away from the table roughly. He grabbed his coat and made his way to the door. He spun around right before leaving. He pointed an angry finger at Svetlana. "We're not done with this. We're gonna talk about this shit. You think you can just fuck off any time you like, after I put years of work into this sham fucking marriage. You've got another thing coming, you ungrateful bitch." with that the slammed the door on her shocked face, stalking over to his car. He had to get out of there, before he started breaking shit. 

 

****

 

Ian steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He walks over to the mirror, wiping a hand along the surface, clearing the condensation. He stares at his reflection, frowning. 

He can hear Maggie moving around in the living room, and his frown deepens. How did he let himself get trapped in this life? He's not fucking happy. He's been living a lie for so long, he has a hard time remembering what the truth is. 

Ian knows he's gay. He's known since he was fourteen years old. But that is a secret. His biggest, most well guarded secret. Because before Ian knew he was gay, he knew he wanted to be in the army. It was the only dream Ian ever had, and he put his whole life into it. ROTC, weekend training, long hours working out, studying hard in school, all in the hopes of serving his country.

And he did it. He beat the odds, got out of the south side. He exceeding his own expectations, the expectations of his family, leaving this shit hole in the rear view and making his dreams a reality. 

Ian had loved serving. He went to some truly incredible places, saw some amazing things. But all of that was overshadowed by the fact that war was indeed hell. He'd lost a lot of friends. Good guys who didn't deserve to die thousands of miles away from home. That shit had changed Ian forever, and once he wrapped up his tour, he decided he wanted to do something to help. So he'd enrolled at Chicago Center Community College, working towards his counseling degree. He wanted to help combat vets. PTSD, survivor's guilt, all that shit. He had a unique perspective, having actually been on the front lines. 

And while Don't Ask Don't Tell had been repealed, there was still a very real stigma in the armed forces when it came to being gay. No one wanted a faggot watching his six. No one wanted to sleep next to a fairy, or shower with an ass reamer. No one wanted his life depending on a limp-wristed queer. 

So Ian had stayed in the closet. No one knew. Not his war buddies or his fellow students a CCCC, not his coworkers, not even his family. Because even though Ian is sure his siblings would accept him, he's not ready for that conversation yet. The inevitable 'how long have you known?' or 'why did you lie all this time?' or the dreaded 'you don't trust me.' or the infinitely worse 'are you sure? maybe you are just confused.' 

No. Ian is not ready for that shit yet. Some day. Just not now. 

So he pretends. He goes to strip clubs with his brothers, brings girls to all their family functions. That's how he found himself in this relationship to begin with. Maggie is a friend of Fiona's from work. She's a nice enough girl, doesn't expect much from Ian, never pushes him for more in their relationship. It's pretty casual between them, but Ian finds it easier to have a girlfriend than to try and explain why he doesn't want one. Just another piece of the puzzle that makes up the mosaic lie that is his life now. It's not really fair, to use Maggie like that, but she seems to be getting what she needs from the relationship for the time being, so Ian's not going to rock the boat. 

He needs to get ready for work. He likes his job at Otto's. It's a perfect fit for the time being. He works in the office, handling the paper work, appointments and inventory. He does invoicing and deals with the customers. Shit Otto is patently bad at. It's not Ian's dream job, but it pays his bills and makes it possible for him to attend school, a couple afternoons and a couple nights a week. 

Ian likes his life. He just wishes that one thing could be different. He doesn't want to live a lie anymore, but for the time being it's easier just to keep up the charade. He's not ready to admit to his loved ones that he's been deceiving them for years, afraid they will turn on him, shut him out. 

The way Lip and Fiona talk about gay people worries him. Stupid shit he's not even sure they realize they are saying. Like last week at family dinner, where Lip was ranting about this 'flaming faggot' he worked with, and how embarrassed he was when the guy flaunted his proclivities all over the office. Fiona had piped up then, saying she didn't see how two men could raise a baby. How it was unnatural and a child needed a mother. That shit hurt. Ian wanted the say that he grew up without either mother or father, and turned out okay. He wanted to say two men were capable of doing a lot of things, raising a baby being one of them. But that was an argument for another day. 

Ian was hopeful that once his family knew about him, they'd be more accepting, more willing to learn about gay people, instead of just relying on their prejudices and what they see on TV for all their information. But Ian's not ready for that confrontation just yet. He just needs a little more time, to get his thoughts in order. To prepare himself for the possibility of ending up alone. For the possibility that he could lose everything. 

Yeah, that's gonna have to wait. Maybe after he's graduated. When he's on firmer ground in his own life. Yeah, sure, that's what he'll do. 

He straightens his tie, glancing at himself in the mirror. He looks good. Professional. He runs a hand through his hair before grabbing his wallet and shit, stuffing his pockets full and making his way out into the kitchen. 

Maggie is there, already dressed for her day at the office. Fiona should be there to pick her up any minute, they carpool together. 

"Good morning, baby." she says, crossing the kitchen and handing Ian a mug of coffee. She kisses him softly and he forces a smile onto his face. 

"Morning." he replies quietly, stepping away. He takes a seat at the kitchen table, opening his phone and scrolling through his emails, looking for an important one from his English professor. 

Maggie sits down across from him, her arms crossed on the table. "Hey, I wanted to talk to you." 

"About what?" Ian says, his eyes not leaving his phone, still searching for that email. 

"About us." Maggie says. That gets Ian's attention. Nothing good ever comes from a comment like that. 

"What about us?" Ian asks, knowing full well he's walking into a trap. He wonders if Maggie has found his Grindr profile, even though he's pretty sure he hid it well on his phone. Ian hates sneaking around to fuck men, but not nearly as much as he hates not fucking men. 

He's not sure Maggie would see the logic in that thinking, however. Ian is a cheater, simple as that. 

But looking at Maggie now, she doesn't look like a woman who just found out her boyfriend is a big queer. She actually looks like she wants something. 

"My lease is up." she says, putting on her best flirty face. It does nothing for Ian, but he plays along. She's his girlfriend, that type of shit is supposed to turn him into a giant pushover pussy, right? So he rolls his eyes, opening his arms like he knows she wants him to do. She takes the bait, like she always does, jumping out of her seat and throwing herself into his lap. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck. 

"Okay, what do you need from me?" Ian asks, rubbing her back with his palm. "You need money for a down payment on a new place? You want me to help you look? My brother works with a guy who owns a couple buildings on the west side." 

Maggie sits back, staring into Ian's eyes with that same pleading look on her face. "What about you?" she says innocently, and Ian's blood runs cold. "You got this big place all to yourself, we've been together for almost eight months. Why don't I just move in here? Take this shit to the next level." she smiles sweetly, running her fingers through Ian's hair. He fights the urge to pull away.

That is exactly what Ian doesn't want. This was supposed to be a casual thing. Just an easy simple affair that kept his family off his back and kept his secret. It was temporary, only until he could find the balls to tell the truth. 

He's fucked up somewhere. He's given Maggie the wrong impression, let her think it was more serious than it really is. 

Ian supposes this is what happens when you fuck with someone's emotions to cover your own ass. He feels terrible. 

"Maggs, I don't know." he says weakly, gently pushing her off his lap. She stands in front of him, a confused, hurt expression on her face. 

"Why the fuck not?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "We've been together for months, this is the next right step." 

Ian stands, taking a step towards his girlfriend, but she steps back, her eyes hard. 

"I just don't know if I'm ready yet." Ian lies. Because he would be ready, if it were the right person. But Maggie is not that person. No woman ever will be. 

It hits Ian in that moment, how tired he is of all this shit. He's painted himself into a corner, and now he's dragging innocent people down with him. 

"Ian, I don't even know what to say to you right now." Maggie says, grabbing up her things to leave. "We are together, this is what people do when they love each other." she shook her head sadly, coming to stand right in front of him. She grabbed his face with both hands, the long, fake nails on her fingers tickling his cheeks. She pulled him down to her face, kissing him slowly. Ian let it happen. Let her push her tongue into his mouth, let her pull him close. He felt nothing. He fought to stay put. 

She finally released him, patting his face gently. She looked up into his eyes. She was a pretty girl, dark hair, light eyes, petite. But it still did nothing for Ian. 

He felt guilt pool in his gut again. She doesn't deserve this. 

"Think about it." she says, pulling away. "Either we move in together, or we call it quits. I am not getting any younger, Ian. I want to get married someday. I want a family. I want someone I can plan a future with. If you don't intend to give me that, I'm going to have to cut my losses and find it with someone else. I don't want to do that. I love you. But I'm starting to wonder if you love me." with that, she swung her purse over her shoulder and left the apartment. 

Ian sighed, falling down on the sofa with a thud. 

Where the fuck did that come from? Maggie had always been so laid back, always easy going, never pushing Ian to do things he had no interest in doing. 

And he had no interest in living with Maggie. That was a step too far in the farce he called his life. That would just be digging himself deeper into this lie, so deep in fact that he'd never find his way out. 

Not that he can see a way out now. 

He sighs again lurching off the couch and grabbing his coat. 

His life may be falling apart, but he still has to work. 

As Ian drives towards Otto's, he tries to push his worries about his girlfriend to the back of his mind, and his thoughts are inevitably drawn in one specific direction. 

Mickey. 

Mickey is a mechanic at Otto's. He's smart and funny, knows everything there is to know about cars. By far the most talented mechanic in the whole shop. 

Ian likes him. A lot. They have been friends since Ian started working at the shop. It had started out rocky, but Ian should have expected that. He knew the moment he laid eyes on Mickey Milkovich that he was going to be trouble for Ian. 

 

6 months ago

 

Ian walked into Otto's Autos, feeling oddly nervous. This is his first real job since returning stateside, and it's going to take some getting used to. The private sector is nothing like military life, and Ian's having a bit of trouble readjusting to it all. 

He'd moved out of his family home the moment he got back to Chicago, needing to be alone to process his new life. He'd had a plan once he'd gotten home: tell them everything and beg their forgiveness. Ian was gay, and he wanted the truth out. 

But the longer he was home, the harder it was to say anything. What if they didn't love him anymore? What if they shut him out of their lives? What if they rejected him? 

Ian couldn't stand the thought of it. 

So Ian had kept his mouth shut, he'd let Fiona set him up with a friend of hers. One blind date turned into two and before he knew it, he had a girlfriend. Something he promised himself he'd never have again. 

He fucked up somewhere, and ended up with Maggie. He took Maggie to family dinner, took her out on dates, fucked her often and thoroughly. let Fiona and his siblings think he was happy when he was really drowning. 

He'd let it all happen, and he's going to have to deal with the ramifications of that. But not today. 

Ian had heard about this job through Lip. He was friendly with the owner through AA. This job was just what Ian needed in the moment. Something to help him pay his bills while he got his degree. He's grateful for the opportunity, knowing he needs the money if he wants to keep his apartment and avoid moving back home. His savings are almost depleted. The GI bill pays for school, but nothing else, so Ian needs this job. 

Ian walks into the front room of the shop. There is a counter, with a middle aged man sitting behind the desk. He's heavy set, wearing a worn pair of overalls and a dirty green t shirt. He keeps pulling at his gray hair in frustration. He's got this frazzled look on his face, flipping through an endless stack of papers, frowning. 

"Um, hello?" Ian says slowly. 

The man looks up, confused. "Can I help you? Are you the Bronco? I thought you needed a tow, I sent Manny out already." 

Ian shook his head, equally confused. "Um, no. I'm Ian. Ian Gallagher. Philip's brother." 

The man jumped up from the desk, his face splitting into a wide smile. He walked around the counter, grabbing up Ian's hand and shaking it vigorously. "Ah! Lip's brother! He's told me so much about you. So glad to have you on board. Welcome, welcome." he said enthusiastically. 

Ian smiled, relaxing a little bit. "Thank you." 

"I'm Otto. Owner and sole proprietor of Otto's Autos. Get it? Otto's Autos?" 

Ian smiled, nodding. "I do get it. Clever." 

"Thought of that shit myself." Otto beams proudly. "Anyway, c'mon. I'll introduce you to the guys and we'll have DJ show you how the office works. He's leaving. Getting married, going to work for his girl's asshole father. You're going to take his place." 

"Okay." Ian said, fighting another smile. Otto was quite a character. He finds it funny that he and Lip are so friendly. Sobriety breeds strange bedfellows, apparently. 

Otto brings Ian into the back, where all the cars are worked on. Ian looks around the spacious area, taking in the cars on the lifts, the walls of tools, the toolboxes and parts scattered all over the floor. The lifts and compressors, the walls filled with oil and fluids, cans and bottles littering the space. It's organized chaos, and it's loud as fuck. 

Someone is playing classic rock on an Ipod dock on a desk in the corner. There are several men in matching coveralls, yelling at each other over the sounds of The Doors. 

"You listen to me, you prick. I told you to order those calipers a week ago." one of the men spat, getting right up in the face of another guy. He was much shorter than the second man, but somehow much more menacing. "This job could have been done days ago, if you'd fucking listen to me, just once."

"You know what, Mick, not everything is about you." the other guy growled, towering over this Mick person. He got right in his face, pushing him back with both hands. 

Mick, or whoever he was, didn't stumble, instead he got right back in the other guys face, his eyes hard. "You're right, DJ, this shit isn't about me. It's about you, and the fucking customer, who needs their car back, but can't have it. Cuz you didn't order the fucking calipers!!" 

"Okay, okay." Otto said cheerily, paying no mind to the tense atmosphere. He walked up to the two men, pushing them apart to stand between them. "I won't have you two coming to blows over a fucking caliper. You'll order it now, won't you DJ? Have it overnighted. And you'll call the Wilsons and tell them it's your fault they can't pick their car up 'til Friday. Am I clear?" 

"Sure, Otto." DJ said, stepping away from Mickey. 

"Sound good, Mick?" Otto asked, giving the mechanic a meaningful look. 

Mickey huffed out an irritated breath, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, Otto. Okay." 

"Good, good." Otto smiled, thumping Mickey hard on the back. "Okay, guys, this here is Ian Gallagher. He's gonna be taking DJ's place in the office once he leaves us for union work." Otto said, laying a hand on Ian's shoulder. "Ian, this is DJ, the man who will be showing you the ropes in the office." Otto then went around the room, pointing to all the other workers, introducing Ian. 

"That's Billy, he's been with me since he graduated high school. He's my right hand, and he calls the shots when I'm not around." Ian extended a hand, and Billy took it. He was short, and blond, unremarkable face. But he smiled at Ian, and Ian was eager to make a good impression. 

"Nice to meet you." Ian said. 

"Yeah, you too." Billy replied, taking a step back. 

"That there is Steve. We all call him Steve-O. He's a bad ass mechanic, a god with electronics and the computers of these newer cars. Don't know what we'd do without him." 

Ian smiled at Steve, extending his hand again. The man took it, returning the smile. He was tall, taller than Ian even, but much more skinny. His hand was all bone and his arms were very thin. He had brown messy hair, sticking up in all directions. His coveralls were black, unlike the blue ones the other two wore. 

"Welcome to the zoo, man." Steve laughed. Ian gave him courtesy chuckle before taking his hand back. 

Otto laughed, pointing at Steve like he'd just said the funniest thing ever. "Manny's out on a tow right now. He's got a wife at home and twin daughters in the middle of the terrible twos. He drives the tow truck and does most of our auto body work. He's a magician with Bondo, let me tell you. He does a poker night every Friday. You play poker?" 

Ian nodded, having a hard time keeping up with Otto's enthusiasm. 

"Good, good." Otto smiled, moving toward the angry short one, "And this here is Mickey." Otto said, clamping a hand down hard on Mickey's shoulder. "He's the newest guy here, before you, of course, but he's a fast learner, and very talented. I see big things in his future." Otto beamed, ruffling Mickey's hair playfully. Mickey groaned, batting his hand away. 

Mickey was by far the hottest guy Ian has seen in ages. His jet black hair and ice blue eyes would turn anyone on. Ian can see the muscles bulging in his forearms, right under the rolled up sleeves of his coveralls. When he walks over to Ian, he's got this confident swagger that leaves Ian's mouth dry. He extends his hand, and Ian takes it, unable to wipe the smile off his face. 

"Hey man. Welcome to the team." Mickey says, shaking Ian's hand once before letting it drop. Ian does his best not to whine at the loss of contact. He's never been so immediately attracted to anyone in his life. 

This is bad. This is very fucking bad. 

"Alright boys, show Ian the work space while DJ and I get the desk ready for training. Okay?" Otto asks, gripping DJ by the shoulder and steering him back toward the front of the shop. 

"So this shit is self-explanatory." Mickey shrugged, grabbing up a dirty rag and wiping his hands. He wandered around the space, pointing out equipment and naming it, much too fast for Ian to retain any of it. 

"This here's the compressor. That over there is the tool wall, if you take something off the wall, put it back. In the right fucking spot, please. These here are the spot lights, spare bulbs in the storage closet up front, Otto will show you that shit. This right here is one of the jacks, don't fucking touch it, you'll lose a finger or some shit. These here are our tool boxes." Mickey said, patting a standing red box with his name emblazoned across the top. It was covered in band decals and bumper stickers. "Don't touch our shit. These are private, and we keep them locked, it would be like me going through your purse. You keepin' up with me, princess?" 

Ian frowned. What was this guy's problem? They had only just met, and he's already being a dick. Sexiness aside, this little prick was rude.

Wonderful. 

"Yeah, I get it." Ian said, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "Anything else?" 

"Yeah." Mickey nodded, motioning toward the far wall. "That over there on the wall is the first aid kit. Otto will want you to take a course, but the office admin. sets that shit up, so you'll have to call and make your own date. The fire extinguisher is right next to it. You know how to use one? Or are you gonna need someone to show you that too?" 

Ian nodded again, his eyes hard as Mickey continued to talk down to him. "I know how to use it." 

"Good. Well, that's pretty much it. You won't be back here a lot. Leave the real work to us, you can just sit up front, answering phones and filing your nails. And don't be like fucking DJ, when I tell you to order a part, fucking order it. Save us all the headache. Sound good, sweet cheeks?" Mickey smirked at him, waggling his eyebrows. 

"Okay, what the fuck is your problem?" Ian finally snapped, crossing the garage quickly and getting right in Mickey's face. Billy and Steve were there in an instant, flanking the fuming men, ready to jump in and break them apart at the first sign of trouble. 

"Nah man, I don't got a problem. Just think it's funny that you waltz in here off the street, no knowledge of cars to speak of, and Otto just hands over the keys to the castle. Have you ever even done an oil change? Or do you have a guy that works on your Audi for you? What kind of stupid north side prick comes down this way to take a job slummin' it with south side trash like us? What the fuck are you doing here? You're daddy cut off your trust fund?" 

Ian was flabbergasted. Who in the fuck does this asshole think he is? Acting like he knows a fucking thing about him. 

Ian got right in his face, so they were nose to nose. Ian could smell him. An intoxicating mixture of motor oil, menthol cigarettes, and Irish Spring. God, it shouldn't be so alluring, but Ian was drooling. 

But fuck this guy. No matter how sexy he was or how good he smelled, he was a total dick, making insane assumptions about Ian within minutes of meeting him. Ian shoved him hard, getting him the fuck out of his face. 

Steve was there in an instant, hands up between the two men, placating. "C'mon guys. No need to get physical. Mick, Ian just got here, how about you don't alienate him just yet, huh?" 

"C'mon, Steve-O, you really wanna work with this prissy little bitch? He's probably never gotten his hands dirty in his life." Mickey replied, his voice dripping with disdain as he took in Ian's fitted button-up shirt and skin tight black slacks. His stupid red hair slicked back his alien looking freckled skin. 

Mickey's not sure what his problem is. He just knows that Ian is sexy as fuck, and Mickey wants him. Bad. And that is the worst fucking thing that could happen to Mickey at work. He doesn't need some hot piece of ass walking around all day, distracting him. Making him want shit he can never have. Mickey is good at ignoring his gayness. He's good at pushing it down and hiding it. But with someone like Ian walking around all day, all Mickey will ever have is gay thoughts. 

Not good at all. 

So he's going to do the only thing he can think of in the moment. He's gonna be rude as fuck, and hope the guy hates him enough to steer clear of him around the shop. 

Great plan, Mickey. So fucking smart. 

"You don't know fucking shit about me." Ian growled, growing angrier by the second. Fuck this guy. How dare he assume he knows a fucking thing about Ian. "You think I'm some north side rich bitch trust fund baby? That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. I grew up two blocks from here. I'm probably more south side that you are, you little asshole." 

Mickey's eye went wide at that statement. He walked around Steve to get back to Ian. "You grew up here? You're south side?" Mickey could feel all the anger draining out of his body, being replaced with confusion. 

"No, I know everyone from the neighborhood. I'd know you." Mickey is sure he'd remember someone as smoking hot as Ian. There's no way a body like that would go unnoticed by Mickey's secret yet keen gay eye. Of course, Mickey kept that shit to himself. 

Ian rolled his eyes, fighting a laugh. "Yeah, I grew up on North Wallace. Took off for a while, joined the army, but the south side is my home. Why, are you from around here?" Ian asked, unable to temper his curiosity. He can't imagine not noticing this guy around, if they in fact grew up in such close proximity. 

"Yeah, I grew up on Trumbull." Mickey says, eyeing Ian curiously. "Are you a fucking Gallagher?" 

Ian couldn't hold in his shocked smile then. He felt it twisting his face up and he huffed out a small laugh. "Yeah, yeah I am." 

"Well shit." Mickey laughed, utterly blown away. "I thought you looked kinda familiar. Lip's your brother? I didn't graduate high school, but when I was still going, he wrote all my papers. Expensive as fuck, but I always got a B." 

Ian laughed. "Yeah, that was a good hustle while it lasted." 

"Which one are you? Carl?" Mickey asked, sizing the red head up. He can't figure out where he knows him from, but the face is definitely familiar now that he has a name to go with it. 

Ian shook his head, chuckling. "No, Carl's younger. I'm Ian." 

The name Ian Gallagher sets off all kinds of alarms in Mickey's head. He laughs, shaking his head. 

"Ian Gallagher, you fucked my sister." Mickey says, still laughing. 

"Your sister?" Ian replies, confused. 

"Mandy Milkovich." 

"You're Mickey Milkovich?" Ian gasped, utterly shocked. Yes, Ian had fucked Mandy. They had been good friends growing up, and she was easy back then. It was obviously never love, but Mandy was fun to hang out with and was useful in Ian's constant quest to stay undercover and in the closet. She wasn't a beard, since she never knew he was gay, but they parted ways amicably, and stayed friendly until Ian left for the army. 

"The one and only." Mickey chuckled. Shit, well, now Mickey knew for sure Ian wasn't gay. He'd fucked Mandy on and off for years in high school. 

Not that it mattered, Mickey reminded himself. He'd never come onto a coworker. Not only would it blow his cover, but it would turn his whole world upside down. He wasn't about to destroy his whole life to hit on a hot guy who obviously isn't into dick. 

Mickey realizes in that moment that his grand 'be a total dick to this guy' plan is going down the fucking tubes, right before his eyes. Shit. 

Fuck. His life really sucks. 

Ian smiled at him, shaking his head slowly. "Small world." he said. "Didn't you kind of just disappear sometime before junior year?" 

Mickey grimaced, looking away. "Yeah, I got locked up. Did two years." 

"Oh shit. Sorry." Ian said, feeling embarrassed for bringing up something so obviously personal. 

"Don't be." Mickey shook his head, smiling. "That sentence saved my life. That's when I learned all this mechanic shit. Best thing to ever happen to me." 

Ian smiled back, nodding. "Good. That's good." he took a step closer, totally unaware that he was closing the distance between them. Mickey smiled at him, equally lost in the moment. How they went from a heated argument to friendly conversation, Mickey will never know. But he likes it. 

Later, he will chastise himself for getting so caught up. 

But before either one of them can make a monumental mistake, Billy walks back in, the door slamming loudly as he stumbles into the garage. Ian and Mickey take a step back, the moment shattered. 

"C'mon, Ian. Otto's got your shit all sorted, he's ready to start training you. Mick, can you get that Dodge up on the jack?" 

Ian nodded, chancing one more glance at Mickey before he followed Billy to the front. 

Mickey groaned, running a hand through his hair, pulling it tightly in frustration. "Fuck." 

He's got to shut this shit down before it starts. He can not have some stupid school boy crush on some hot shit head south side boy. Jesus, he's fucked Mandy, how sick is that? Mickey can not go down this road. 

No fucking way. 

 

***

 

Mickey can't believe that was so long ago now. Looking back it seems like no time has passed at all. 

This day, however, he could do without. 

Time goes by slowly for Mickey, thoughts of his argument with Svetlana swirling in his mind all day. He works on car after car, none of the work doing anything to distract him. It's all second nature to him, he could probably do this shit with his eyes closed at this point. 

So his mind has plenty of time to wander. To Svetlana, to what she said. To how she's leaving him to start her new awesome lesbian life. Mickey's still so mad. 

It's not like he wants Svetlana, or wants to stay married to her. He is actually kind of happy for her, for finding 'love' or whatever. If that even exists. She probably just drunk on good sex. Trippin' off those pheromones that radiate of someone when you fuck them really good.

Mickey shakes his head, not wanting to go down that road right now. 

So his wife is leaving him. All his plans have been shot to shit. He'll probably lose the house now, his car will be repossessed, he'll have to drop out of school. All because his bitch wife wants to renege on their agreement. 

Leave it to the ex-hooker who raped him to fuck him in the end. 

Mickey lets out a frustrated growl, throwing his wrench. It hits the wall with a long bang, clattering to the floor. Mickey wants to scream, he's so infuriated.

Steve and Billy jump, both letting out matching startled cries. Mickey had forgotten they were even there. 

"Jesus Mickey." Billy said. "What the fuck is your problem? You've been acting off all day long. More agro than usual, which I'm surprised is even possible." 

"Fuck off." Mickey said, his tone not nearly as harsh as he intended. He's tired, and worried and a little bit scared. Not that he'd tell anyone that shit. He's on his own. As usual. 

"Seriously, Mickey." Steve added. "You don't have to tell us what's up, but it's obvious that you are going through some shit right now." 

Mickey nodded, unable to put up a fight anymore. 

"Well, it's Friday night. Let's hit the bar. You can drink away your troubles like any other red blooded American." 

"I don't know." Mickey said, walking across the garage to pick up his discarded wrench, he wiped it off on his coveralls before walking back to his tool box and dropping it inside. "I should probably just go home." 

"You got that hot as fuck Russian waiting for you at home? She gonna fix all your troubles?" Billy laughed. Billy was an okay guy, but he never knew when to keep his mouth shut, or his dick in his pants. He's got a pregnant wife, and a girlfriend in high school. He'd probably fuck Svetlana if Mickey told him he could. 

"She's the cause of my problems." Mickey replied before he could remember himself. 

"Ooooh, trouble in paradise?" Steve asked, coming to stand next to Mickey. He dropped a hand down on Mickey's shoulder, shaking him back and forth playfully. "You gotta come out with us then. Manny had to cancel poker night, cuz the girls are sick. So we can do this shit instead." 

"Guys, I really just wanna go home and drink alone." Mickey said tiredly, moving to walk around Steve. The other man was faster, however, blocking his path. 

"Mikhailio Milkovich, you are coming out with us, no ifs ands or buts. Drinks on me all night. C'mon. It could be fun." 

"I doubt that very much." Mickey mumbled, defeated. "But whatever. You're buying, all damn night." When Steve nodded, happy, Mickey smiled back. "You're gonna be dead broke by the end of the night, a Milkovich can drink their body weight in booze, just so you know." 

Steve laughed, and Mickey was amused that Steve thought he was joking. 

Billy chuckled, shaking his head, leaving the other two men in the garage bickering to find Ian in the office. 

"Yo, Gallagher. Boy's night out. You in?" 

Ian looked up from his spread sheet, finding Billy standing in the middle of the office in his grease stained coveralls. 

Did Ian want to go out with the boys tonight? Not particularly. He liked the boys alright, they were pretty decent as far as coworkers go. But he's had a long day, his head filled with Maggie's ultimatum all day. He has to figure out what he wants to do with her. Is he going to give in, give her what she wants? Keep this lie going? Or is he going to let her go? Could he tell her the truth? Would she be the first person he ever said those words to? 

I'm gay. 

Ian can't even decide how he feels about that. It's never been a real option up until this point, but he can't help but wonder if this is the push he needs. To finally blast his way out of the closet and never look back. 

But then he thinks of his family. How betrayed they will feel. How them hating him could be a real option. Then Ian would lose his girlfriend, and his family, all for nothing. Just so he can be a little more comfortable in his own skin. 

No. That just won't do. Ian's not ready to take that kind of risk. He has nothing to risk it for, nothing to look forward to except uncertainty and loneliness. 

"Um, Ian?" Billy says, pulling Ian out of his head. Ian looks over at Billy, who is giving him this confused, concerned look. 

Ian decides in that moment that maybe a night away from his apartment is just what he needs. Maggie is sure to want to see him tonight, to continue their conversation about her moving in. 

Ian is not ready for that shit. So it's really a no-brainer. 

"Sure, yeah. Sounds like fun." 

"Sweet." Billy smiles. "Mick's gonna be pumped."

"Wait, what?" Ian said, leaning with his hands on his desk. "Mickey's coming? He never comes." 

"I know, but he's got some shit going on at home, and we're doing the bro thing tonight. He needs some help forgetting that shit for a bit. He's gonna be stoked you're coming. You guys are boys, right?"

Ian nodded, feeling even more overwhelmed. 

Yes, he and Mickey had become friendly over the past six months. They had a lot in common, growing up the way they did. They had shared friends and acquaintances, shared experiences. But they had never spent any time together, for whatever reason. Whenever Ian went to poker night, Mickey skipped it, and whenever Ian went out for beers with the guys, Mickey had always had other shit going on. So they had never hung out. 

Ian had always thought it was a good thing. Ian was kinda sorta hot for Mickey, and the more distance between them, the safer it was for Ian. 

Ian knows the Milkovich family. He had been very close to Mandy for a long time, so he saw first hand how Terry and her brothers operated. What their beliefs were. The whole family was like a mini Nazi camp. Racist, sexist, and incredibly homophobic. Mandy told him once that Terry and the brothers had beaten a gay couple so badly, one of the men had been in a coma for two weeks. 

Ian knows that this ridiculous crush on Mickey is not only pointless and futile, but also very dangerous. If Mickey even had the slightest inclination that Ian was into dick, Ian might not only lose his job, but he could get his ass beat. Ian doesn't want to lose his friendship with Mickey over something as stupid as Ian's constant boner for him. 

So Ian keeps the friendship casual, only ever scratching the surface of who Ian really is. It's easy, after all this time, to compartmentalize his life. No one really knows him, why should Mickey be any different?

So this little night out held more implications for Ian than it did for anyone else. Hanging out with Mickey? Getting drunk with Mickey? 

Yeah, this is a bad idea. 

"Cool. We're gonna meet up at the Alibi at seven. Be there, and be ready to get wasted." Billy laughed, turning his back on Ian and walking back into the garage without another word. 

Ian flopped down in his chair, unable to shake the feeling that he'd been hustled somehow. 

This was going to end badly, Ian could feel it. 

 

***

 

Ian wanders into the Alibi just after seven, his eyes scanning the bar for his coworkers. He sees the boys congregated around the pool table in the far corner of the bar. Billy and Steve are playing pool, while Mickey leans up against the juke box, watching the game unfold with casual disinterest. Ian feels a flutter in his stomach at the sight of him. 

Gone are the work coveralls and grease. Mickey is wearing a tight white t shirt and dark jeans, his muscular legs on display for all to see. He has a beer in his hand, and every few seconds he brings it to his mouth, drawing Ian's attention to his deliciously plump lips. 

Yeah, this was a bad idea. He should have found a hook up on Gridr instead. A sexy little motherfucker with black hair and a shitty attitude. Ian's embarrassed to admit he'd done that before. Scoured his hook up apps looking for a Mickey doppelganger to satiate his hunger for the other man. It took the edge off, but off-brand Mickeys, no matter how many Ian found, could never compare to the real deal. 

Ian needs help. Like professional help. 

This shit is not normal.

He makes a beeline for the bar, desperate to take the edge off and draw his mind away from his captivating coworker. 

He waits patiently for Kev to wander over. Kev has been a fixture in Ian's life for as long as he can remember. He used to come down to this bar with Frank and Lip when he was in grade school. Kev was behind the bar then too, too young to drink, but not too young to serve, according to Stan, the old owner. When Stan died, Kev was the obvious replacement for him. Kev was a south side fixture, blending seamlessly into the background, but if he was ever absent, it would be glaringly obvious. 

"Ian, man!" Kev shouted jovially over the blaring jukebox. "Long time, no see, my friend. How's it hanging? How's the job? Those your crew over there?" Kev pointed toward the pool table with his free hand, the other dropping a draft beer down in front of Ian. 

"Yeah." Ian laughed, overwhelmed as usual by Kev's unbridled enthusiasm. "They're good guys." 

"Well, then what are you doing over here?" Kev asked, smirking. 

"Just wanted to decompress for a bit before going over there. Those dudes can be a handful."

"Oh, I know." Kev chuckled. "They come in here every now and again. Usually end up starting a fight before the end of the night. Or Mickey's wife will roll up in here, screaming about random shit. They're good dudes, but sometimes the trouble's not worth their bar tab." 

"Mickey's wife comes in here?" Ian asked, surprised. He knew about Svetlana, she'd come into the shop a few times to take Mickey's head off over one thing or another. She seemed like kind of a bitch, and Ian can't figure out how they got together in the first place. 

Not that Ian's an expert on relationships. He's got more than enough trouble in his own life to attest to that fact. 

God, Maggie. Ian hasn't really thought about that problem all day today. He did well to push it to the back of his mind, focusing on work and an upcoming test in Computer Applications. But now that he's out of work, and far away from those distractions, his mind is drawn back to his problem. 

It's not like Maggie is wrong. She has every right to want more from Ian. They are supposed to be in a committed adult relationship. They are supposed to be in love. 

But Ian doesn't feel love. He only feels trapped. He feels guilty and selfish and cowardly. 

As he downs his first beer and motions Kev for another, his mind goes from morose to angry. His hand clenches tightly around his beer mug and his frown deepens. 

Fuck Maggie. Fuck her and her expectation. Everything was fine, until she decided what they had wasn't good enough anymore. That what they had wasn't enough to make her happy. That Ian wasn't giving her what she needed. 

Ian sighs, resting his head in his hand as he drinks his beer sullenly. 

Fuck everything. 

 

***

 

Mickey watches Ian at the bar, sitting silently. Kev is rambling to him, but it's like nothing he's saying is registering with the man. Ian's head is resting in his hand, his other hand clutching his beer mug, his eyes trained on the bar as Kev runs his mouth endlessly. 

Mickey is still standing along the back wall, watching Steve and Billy play pool poorly. He's only half listening to the conversation going on between the two men. Something or another about their wives or kids.

Who the fuck knows? Mickey's totally zoning out until Steve says his name. 

"What?" Mickey asks, drawing his attention back to the conversation. 

"I said, what's going on with your wife? I haven't seen her around here or the shop in ages. She steppin' out on you?" he said it jokingly, but the words make Mickey cringe. 

"Maybe." he said, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Oh shit man, really? I'm sorry. I was just fuckin' around." Steve stammered, looking toward Billy for rescue. Billy just shook his head, smirking as he brought his beer to his lips. Steve was on his own. "I'm sure it's not all that bad, man. Women are crazy bitches, amiright?" he laughed awkwardly. 

"Yeah, whatever." Mickey said, walking around the pool table. "I'm getting another beer." and with that he made his way across the semi-crowded bar and slipped onto a stool next to Ian. 

"Hey man. Didn't think you'd come." Mickey says by way of greeting. He waves Kev down and the man comes over, pouring him a drink and leaving the two men alone. 

"Yeah, well..." Ian replies cryptically. He didn't even bother to look over at Mickey.

"Hey man, you good?" Mickey asks, suddenly noticing Ian's sullen mood. 

Ian chuckles darkly, shaking his head. "Fucking women, man." 

Mickey laughs. The irony of the situation is a bit ridiculous. Of course Ian would be having woman troubles. But they have nothing in common with Mickey's woman troubles. He's straight. He's had a girlfriend for almost a year. He talks about Maggie sometimes at work. 

Mickey chastises himself silently. He needs to cut the shit. This is why he tries not to socialize with Ian outside of work. He makes it hard to think. Ian makes it hard for Mickey to remember himself, to remember who he is, to the outside world. He makes it hard to remember that he's playing a role, that his life is a farce. Ian makes Mickey want to throw all the lies out the window, shout the truth from the rooftops. 

Mickey is gay, and he's hot for Ian Gallagher. 

And that shit is dangerous. Mickey's whole life could implode, and the closer he gets to Ian, the more real that possibility feels. 

But Ian's here now, and Mickey doesn't want to be anywhere else. Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through his veins. Or maybe it's the fact that Mickey is just so fucking tired of it all. He's fucking exhausted, honestly. 

Regardless of the reason, Mickey doesn't move away. He sits next to Ian, sipping his beer in silence. That is, until he can't take it anymore. He's too curious. Even though it's none of his fucking business. He and Ian are friendly, but they're not FRIENDS. 

But he asks anyway, because with Ian, Mickey just can't help himself. 

"Something going on with Maggie?" the question is out of his mouth and into the air before Mickey even registers he's speaking. 

Fuck. That was stupid. 

Ian, for his part, feels a strange rush of excitement. Mickey is sitting here, asking him about his life. Showing an interest in Ian and his problems. Ian knows it's probably just friendly curiosity, but he can't help the swarm of butterflies in his stomach at Mickey's attention. 

But that exuberance is tempered by the topic of conversation. 

Maggie. Fuck. 

"Yeah." Ian nods glumly. He takes a long sip of his beer, dropping the mug back down on the bar top to pat his pockets looking for his cigarettes. Before he can take them out, however, Mickey is there with a cigarette from his own pack. Ian takes one, slipping it between his lips, his eyes fixated on Mickey as he flicks his lighter and puts it to the cigarette dangling from Ian's lips. Ian inhales, and he can't help but feel like Mickey is focused pretty hard on Ian's lips right now. 

Ian shakes his head. Jesus, he must be drunker than he thought. He smiles, before remembering himself. 

"So what's up, then. I mean, if you wanna talk about it. You don't have to, it's just you look super bummed." Mickey rambled, feeling flustered all of the sudden. 

"It's fine." Ian waved him off with the hand not holding his cigarette. "She kinda dropped this bomb on me today. Says her lease at her place is up, wants to move in with me." 

"Oh shit." Mickey said. He knows he's got this stupid gobsmacked expression on his face, but he can't get his shit together to save his life. "How long have you been together?" Mickey doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to talk about Ian's fucking girlfriend right now. But Ian obviously needs to talk about it. He's visibly relaxed since Mickey came over, and in that moment, Mickey thinks he'd do anything to make Ian feel better. 

"About eight months." Ian sighed. It felt like much longer than that, but Ian keeps that to himself. It's not normal for Ian to see his relationship in such a negative way, like being with Maggie is a chore. Even though that's what it feels like. Maggie is a good person, she treats him well. She's kind and caring and his family loves her. But Ian doesn't, and that's a pretty big deal. 

"Well, that's long enough for you to know, right?" Mickey asked hesitantly. "I mean, me and Svet got married a few months after meeting." Mickey grimaces the moment the words are out of his mouth. What a terrible comparison to make. He and Svetlana had been forced together, in every sense of the word. He hoped to god Ian never had to experience something like that. 

Not that he would, since he was straight. 

"Shit, really?" Ian asked, surprised for some reason. "That's cool." it felt strange, the words in his mouth. But what else was he supposed to say?

"It's not really, though. She's leaving me, get this, for another woman." Mickey surprises himself yet again by being so candid with Ian. This is the first substantial conversation they've ever had, and it's getting deep really quick. 

"Oh my god." Ian breathed. "I'm so sorry." 

Mickey laughed, shaking his head. "Don't be. It's been over for a long time. Sometimes I think it wasn't ever real." Mickey knows he's dancing along a precarious line, but his inhibitions are low, and the truth is beating against that wall in his mind, begging to be released. Mickey's holding it back, for the time being. 

"Oh." Ian says quietly. "Well, fuck them, then, huh?" Ian says, a little too loudly. He claps Mickey on the back, laughing. "Who needs women when we've got friends, yeah?" 

Mickey looks over at Ian, smiling. "Right. Bros before hoes." 

"Bros before hoes." Ian laughs, giving Mickey a smile of his own. 

"But honestly, Ian. Don't do anything you don't want to do. Life is too short to be unhappy. If you have any reservations about Maggie, don't move in with her. You'll only end up hating her and yourself. Trust me." Mickey will indeed hate himself in the morning for being so brutally honest. Even if it's only Ian, and for some reason Mickey trusts him. 

The conversation flows easily between the two men. They talk more about their girlfriends, how they are always nagging them, pushing them to do this or that. Ian talks about Maggie's irritation at Ian's apparent lack of investment in their future. How she's desperate to move forward, and the more Ian plants his feet, the more insistent her nudges become. He tells Mickey about their most recent weekend getaway that morphed into a huge fight when Ian refused to participate in the stupid couples activities the spa provided. Mickey laughed loud and long at that, much to Ian's chagrin. 

Mickey tells Ian about Svetlana pulling away, about her newfound lesbianism and her desire to leave Mickey in the lurch with their bills, their mortgage, and the massive renovation they are in the middle of. Mickey tells Ian's he's worried he won't be able to hack it on his own, even though he's over the whole relationship. He tells him he's excited at the idea of being free, but scared shitless at the notion he's going to have to go it alone from now on. 

"You're not alone, though, right?" Ian says hesitantly. "You've got family?" 

Mickey laughs, bitterness lacing his tone. "Sure. I got Mands and Iggs. But that's it. My old man is a prick, and my older brothers Colin and Joey are chips right off the old block. I don't need that shit in my life." 

"I remember your dad. From the neighborhood. Dude was scary." Ian doesn't mention all the fag bashes he heard of at the hands of Terry Milkovich. He'd heard the most brutal stories about the man. And it's not just gays. Hispanics, blacks, Jews. Terry was an equal opportunity hate monger. And he was a frightening monster. 

"Try living with him." Mickey chuckled darkly. "But he's gone for good, so there's that. I don't see Mandy or Iggy as much as I'd like to. We all have our own lives now." he doesn't mention the fact that his siblings are the only ones who know about Mickey. They'd figured it out after the wedding, when Mickey was a broken shell of a man, drinking and drugging through his days just so he could face the world. He hadn't told them, couldn't say the words. But after they confronted him about it, Mickey had pretty much cut them out of his life, too afraid to tell the truth. He didn't trust himself to keep the lie alive with them. They knew him too well, and if they spent too much time with him, he knows the lie would crumble, and he couldn't afford that. Not back then. 

But Ian didn't need to know any of that. So Mickey changed the subject. 

"Can't believe you used to fuck my sister." Mickey laughed, cringing internally at his own words. What the fuck is wrong with him? The last thing he needs to be doing is picturing the guy he jerks off to fucking his sister. 

Mickey needs another drink. He waves Kev down. The man saunters over, big smile on his face. 

"You guys need another round?" he asks, giving the men a knowing smirk that goes right over both their heads. 

"Yeah, please." Mickey nods. "Two more beers and a couple shots of Jack." 

Kev backs off, moving to pour their beers, leaving the two men alone again. 

"That shit with Mandy was years ago, man." Ian laughed, feeling oddly embarrassed. "You gonna hold that shit over my head forever. How are we ever going to really be bros if you don't let that shit go?" 

Mickey rolled his eyes, shoving Ian with an open palm. Ian was tipsy already, and almost lost his balance, slipping off the stool a little. Mickey's hand shot out, steadying Ian. Ian startles, his eyes flicking to where Mickey was touching him. 

Once Ian was situated safely again, Mickey withdrew his hand, shaking it at his side to alleviate the burning sensation that was shooting up his arm from the simple touch. 

Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with him?

"Honestly, though." Mickey continued, unable to stop his mouth from running. "Sister fucking aside, it's weird that we never hung out back in the day. I mean, we were practically neighbors for our entire childhood." 

Mickey thinks back to growing up. Sure, he'd seen Ian around the neighborhood. He's hard to miss. With the red hair and the freckles (which have faded significantly since grade school) he stuck out like a ginger sore thumb. 

Ian nods, his mind also going back. He'd seen Mickey around. Knew he was Mandy's brother, but he had been terrified of the Milkovich brothers. Everyone was. They were always in and out of juvie. And not for petty shit either. Armed robbery. Home invasion. Assault. Hate crimes. Even in the south side, the stood out in their rampant criminality. Dangerous, violent, cruel. Anyone who valued their life gave the Milkovich brothers a wide berth. 

And then, of course, Mickey was just gone. Arrested one day, when Ian was just getting ready to ship out, never to be seen again on the streets of the south side. Ian had heard little snippets of information around the neighborhood concerning Mickey. Lip had told him once that he was locked up, doing two years for arson of all things. While he was home on leave a couple years ago, the neighborhood had been abuzz with word that Mickey had wrapped his bid, and was loose on the streets again, and working somewhere in the neighborhood. He heard from Mandy at one of their infrequent lunch dates that he'd gotten married. Looking back now, Ian had amassed quite a bit of information on Mickey Milkovich, filing it away in the back of his mind for some unknown reason.

Well, the reason is pretty clear in Ian's inebriated, brutally honest mind. 

Ian has apparently had a Big Gay Crush on Mickey for ages now. He's only now able to admit it to himself. 

Wonderful. Could things get any worse? 

"I remember you, from little league." Ian says, instead of voicing his actual thoughts. "You pissed on first base." 

Mickey's eyes went wide, a slow smile breaking out on his face. "What the hell? How did you hear about that shit?" Mickey had been a holy terror growing up, and pissing on first base was the least of his crimes. Although it did get him kicked off the team. 

"I was playing second, dumb ass." Ian laughed. 

"Holy shit. That was you?" Mickey giggled. Fucking giggled like a girl. He cleared his throat, grabbing his beer and downing half of it. He scooped up his shot glass next, tossing it back with minimal grimace. "It was worth it. That umpire was a total prick. Should've pissed on him." 

That one comment launched a whole other conversation, about their shared childhoods, the petty crimes they committed, the hustles and scams they pulled to survive the harsh Chicago winters. They talked for hours about growing up and their shitty parents and their siblings and how they both hated and loved them. 

They talked until Billy came over, clapping them on their shoulders and shoving his way between them. 

"Yo, we're gonna call it a night." he said to the two men. He slipped his credit card between them and toward Kev. "Settle me up, dude? Mickey too. Whatever he's had til just now's on me." 

"Sure thing, man." he nodded, taking the credit card and walking toward the machine to run it. "You two done for the night too?" he asked Mickey and Ian, when neither of them moved to stand. 

"You know what, I don't think I'm ready to go home just yet." Mickey mumbled, his eyes flicking toward Ian before settling back on his half empty beer. 

Ian nodded, maybe a little to fast, doing his best not to look at Mickey when he replied. 

Keep it together, Ian. He just wants a friend. He's having a shitty day. Not everything is about your dick, Jesus. 

Ian's inner monologue is running a mile a minute when he finally speaks. "Yeah." he croaks. "I think I'll stick around for a little bit." 

"Cool." Billy said, totally oblivious to the tension between the two men. "You guys have a good night. See ya Monday." 

"See ya." the men said in unison, still not looking at Billy or each other. 

It was ridiculous, honestly. 

Billy and Steve leave the bar, waving over their shoulders as the door closes behind them. It's just Mickey and Ian, then. And every drunk who stays for last call every night. But all that shit fades into the background. It's just the two of them, and the copious amounts of alcohol they are consuming. 

Kev keeps bringing them beers and shots, long after they should have been cut off. But Kev's always like that. Ian and Mickey are original neighborhood kids, south side through and through. They can handle their liquor, and would probably trash the place if Kev tried to cut them off. 

Kev chuckles at the pair, watching them flirt without knowing they're flirting. Kev knows that bartenders tend to fade into the background. After a few drinks, no one even notices them anymore. Kev hears the most interesting shit while he's behind the bar. He hears about affairs, and unsolved crimes, drug deals and all other manner of south side gossipy madness. Usually its nothing of consequence, but every once in a while, Kev will witness something truly amazing. 

He has a feeling tonight is going to be one of those nights. He smiles to himself as he clears away their empty beers, dropping two more down on the bar before they can even ask. He never considered that either Ian or Mickey could be gay, but looking at them now, he wouldn't be surprised. Stranger things had happened at the Alibi right before last call....

"On the house, yeah?" Kev says, pushing the drinks toward the men, that same smirk on his lips. 

"Thanks Kev." Ian gives him a loopy smile, swaying in his seat a little as he moves to grab up the beer. 

"Whoa there, killer." Mickey laughs, taking a sip of his own beer, watching Ian with a small smile on his lips. The drunker they get, the cuter Ian looks. 

Alarm bells should be going off in Mickey's head. He and Ian, alone together, in such close proximity. Mickey's walls are crumbling to dust, and Mickey doesn't know how to stop it. He isn't sure he wants to. 

But that's crazy, right? One night out with this ginger shithead and Mickey's ready to throw his whole life into the fire? No fucking way. He needs to sober up, and get away from Ian for a while. It will be easier to think with some distance between them. 

But he doesn't. He stays put, chatting with Ian about random, pointless shit. Movies and bands they like, shit they do in their off time for fun. Ian talks a lot about his family. There is a lot of love there, and Mickey can't help but be a little jealous of that bond. But Mickey doesn't mind listening. He doesn't mind listening at all. 

Ian is so fucking easy to talk to, and even easier on the eyes. 

God, Mickey is fucked. 

"Alright guys, last call." Kev says, wiping the bar down with a dirty dish rag. 

Mickey's eyes snap away from Ian's profile. How long has he been sitting here, listening to Ian ramble about Gallagher shenanigans? How long has he been staring at Ian like a lovesick faggot puppy? 

What the fuck? 

He eyes the bar, shocked to find that the place is empty except for the two of them at the bar, and Kermit passed out under the pool table. Kev walks out from behind the bar, walking over to Kermit's motionless body. He hooks his hands under the man's armpits, grunting with exertion as he lifts him. 

"Mickey, help me out here?" Kev groans, failing in his attempt to move Kermit. Mickey rolls his eyes, but gets up to help. 

Ian watches the men lift Kermit, dragging him outside and leaning him up against the brick facade of the building. He can't keep his eyes off the curve of Mickey's ass, or the way the muscles in his arms flex with every movement. Shit, what Ian wouldn't give to sink his teeth into those muscles. 

Ian shakes his head, silently urging himself to keep it the fuck together. He watches as Kev and Mickey walk back into the bar, Mickey swaying on his feet. 

Ian slides his credit card across the bar toward Kev. "Here man, settle us up." 

"Dude, I can pay my own way." Mickey says, moving to reach for his wallet. Ian puts his hand out, stopping him. 

"I got it." Ian insists. "You can get it next time." 

"What makes you think there's gonna be a next time?" Mickey asks, eyebrows raised. Ian just scoffs at him, like he's the most ridiculous person alive. 

Kev is standing off to the side, running Ian's card through the machine, watching the men talking lowly. He knows he's not the smartest man in the room at any given moment, but he knows some things. 

Something is brewing between those too. Either a brutal fist fight, or an epic fuck fest. Around here, it really could go either way. 

Kev walks back over, handing Ian his card back. Ian thanks him, sliding the card into his wallet. "Okay, we better get going." Ian said, glancing at Mickey. "I don't think you should drive, man. You're pretty trashed."

Mickey balked at him, standing from his bar stool, only wobbling slightly. "Fuck off, man. You've had just as much to drink as me." 

"Yeah, I have." Ian conceded, shrugging. "But my apartment is walking distance from here. I left my car at my place." 

Mickey nodded, pulling his hoodie straight on his shoulders. "Well, I'm good. My house is only a few blocks away. I'm sure I'll be fine. I've driven this drive a million times, way drunker than this." 

Kev watched surreptitiously, doing his damnedest to keep a straight face. These two were a couple of idiots. 

"Mick, come the fuck on. You wanna get a DUI? Just come to my place and sleep it off, you can come pick up your car in the morning." 

Mickey glared at Ian, crossing his arms over his chest. That was the worst fucking idea he's ever heard. Mickey going to Ian's house? Mickey spending the night with Ian? Mickey even entertaining the idea of being in the same building as Ian, while he's sleeping. All half dressed and sleepy sexy? Fuck. No. 

"I just told you I'm fine." Mickey ground out. He needed to nip this shit in the bud before it got even more out of control. "You don't know me, and you don't know my tolerance. I'm not even drunk."

"Oh get real." Ian shot back. He got up in Mickey's face, too close for comfort. Ian's hands itched to touch him, his body hummed with desire, but that feeling was overshadowed in the moment by anger. Mickey was being a difficult little bitch right now, and Ian was only trying to look out for him. "I know drunk when I see it. You don't grow up with Frank Gallagher as your father and not learn the signs of inebriation. You're hammered." 

"Get fucked, Gallagher." Mickey said, taking the final step to put them chest to chest. "If I wanted to listen to bitchy nagging all night, I would have stayed home with my fucking wife." 

That's it. The mention of Svetlana is what does it. Ian shoves Mickey hard, sending stumbling backwards. Kev is frozen at the bar, torn between breaking up the impending blood bath, and letting it work itself out naturally. 

"Fuck. You." Ian growls, his hands clenching into fists, ready to strike the first blow. 

But Mickey strikes first, shocking Ian and Kev both when he grabs Ian by the face and drags him into a biting kiss. 

Ian gives a stunned gasp, but regains his senses quickly. He wraps an arm around Mickey's waist, pulling close as Mickey buries his hands in Ian's hair, pulling hard. Ian groans, slipping his tongue into Mickey's mouth. He tastes like newports and whiskey and Ian can't get enough. 

Mickey knows he's fucked up. Kissing a man in public like this. Kissing Ian of all people. He wasn't even sure Ian was into dudes, but he's drunk and being reckless. But Ian is kissing him back, and he's not ready for this monumental mistake to end just yet. He tugs on Ian's hair tighter, smiling against his lips as Ian lets out this pained grunt, his arms tightening around his waist, leaving no space between them. 

Mickey's tongue tangles with Ian's in that sloppy drunk way that usually turns Ian off, but with Mickey, fuck, he's hard in a nanosecond. Mickey is letting these little breathy whimpers slip past his lips as he kisses Ian senseless. It's unlike anything he's ever experienced, and he doesn't want it to end. 

Much too soon for Ian's liking, Mickey pulls back to breathe. He takes a step back, his eyes shooting up to Kev behind the bar. The man is not looking at them, he's got his back to the room, going through the til, counting out the singles. 

Mickey takes a deep breath, running a hand over his mouth. Fuck. Shit. What did he just do? 

"Mick." Ian says quietly. He steps up to him again, but wisely leaves some space between them. "Just come home with me. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. It'll be fine, I promise. It's just us right now." 

In that moment, Mickey can feel it. He can actually feel his walls crumbling. That last vestige of resistance disintegrates and all that's left is Mickey. 

And Mickey has no defense when it comes to Ian. He probably never did. 

"Yeah, okay." he says quietly, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. This is his bar. He's been coming to the Alibi since he was fourteen. And now he's gone and fucked it all up. Kissing a dude, in front of Kev.

He may as well never show his face her ever again. 

Ian gives him a small smile, and they make their way to the door. A bit of an awkward silence falls between them, but before they can step out onto the street, Kev calls to them. 

"Hey, you guys have a good night, okay?" he says. Ian and Mickey turn toward him, both of them nodding minutely. "And come on back soon. We'll be happy to have you both, any fucking time. You hear me?" 

Ian smiles, and Mickey gives another nod, unsure if he heard the man right. Fuck it, he'll think about that shit tomorrow. But it does give him a warm feeling in his gut. 

Maybe shit's not as bad as he thought. 

Kev watches them walk off together, the nervous tension visible even from the other side of the window. He smiles to himself, shaking his head. He can't help but feel like he just witnessed the start of something pretty fucking cool. He's seen it all, working at the Alibi, but that shit might just take the cake. 

On the sidewalk, Ian lights up a cigarette, passing it to Mickey. They share the butt as they walk, neither of them speaking. It's not as awkward as it was right after the kiss, but it's still not right and the atmosphere is setting Mickey's teeth on edge. 

What is he supposed to do now? What is he supposed to say? What is going to happen when they get to Ian's place?

Ian watches Mickey out of the corner of his eye. He can tell his friend is freaking out. Probably really weirded out over what just happened. Ian's shocked too, but he doesn't regret it. That kiss was by far the sexiest thing to happen to him in ages. The feeling he got kissing Mickey was unlike any kiss he'd ever had, with a man or a woman. He doesn't know what to do about it, but he knows he wants to do it again.

They walk to Ian's apartment in silence, passing the cigarette back and forth. Once they reach the building, Ian opens the door and Mickey follows him to the third floor. Ian stops in front of the last door on the left, fishing his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door. He lets Mickey go in first. 

Mickey looks around Ian's place. It's small, but it's clean. Smells like Ian and weed. Mickey hates himself a little in that moment for being so familiar with Ian's scent. His mind starts spinning again. 

What is he doing here? Is Ian really into him? What if he is? What does that mean for Mickey, for his job? Is Mickey ready to be out? Is Ian? Jesus fucking Christ. He's too drunk for this shit. Or maybe not drunk enough. 

Ian walks around the apartment for a minute, taking his coat off and toeing his shoes off. He disappears into what has to be his bedroom, coming back out a moment later, with what looks like sweats and a t shirt in one hand, an a packed bowl in the other. 

Mickey slips his hoodie off, laying it over the back of the couch, doing his best to relax in this foreign situation.

Ian lays the clothes on the couch next to Mickey, sitting down next to him hesitantly. He sparks the bowl, taking a long hit before passing it to Mickey. They pass the bowl back and forth for a while, neither of them speaking. 

Ian feels like he's losing his mind. He needs to say something. He needs to fix this shit before he loses his friend, maybe his job. Mickey could talk to Otto, get him fired for sexual harassment or some shit. Even if Mickey kissed him first, Mickey had been at the garage longer, and if it came down to it, Otto would believe Mickey over Ian.

He fucked up. He fucked up bad. Mickey was married. To a woman. Lesbian lover aside, Svetlana was still his wife. And Ian still had Maggie to think about, even if he was pretty sure it was over between them. 

Mickey takes a final hit off the bowl, placing it on the coffee table and sinking back into the cushions. He turns his head slowly, his eyes falling on Ian. 

It's not fair that this motherfucker looks so god damn good all the time. Shit should be illegal. Ian has no idea how fucking EDIBLE he looks at all times. It's fucking Mickey right up. 

"Hey, I'm sorry." Ian says quietly. "I don't know what got into me back at the bar. I'm a dick, and I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I'm so sorry, Mick." Ian is mortified. And so worried that this will be the end of whatever semblance of a friendship they had. 

Mickey's brow furrows, confused. Why is Ian apologizing? Mickey kissed him. Oh, that's right, he's not gay. And neither is Ian. 

Mickey forgets sometimes. 

"Don't wanna talk about that right now." Mickey says lowly. He doesn't. He doesn't want to talk about anything right now. 

"Oh." Ian says quietly. "Of course, I'm sorry." he shakes his head, angry at himself for making shit even more uncomfortable. "I'll just let you get some sleep. You can sleep in this shit." Ian pats the clothes he brought out, moving to stand, but Mickey's tattooed hand clamps down on his wrist. Ian's eyes shoot up, locking with Mickey's. Mickey's got this unreadable expression on his face, but Ian can't look away. 

"Said I didn't wanna talk, didn't say I wanted you to leave." Mickey says lowly. It's just above a whisper, and Ian's convinced he heard him wrong. 

"What?" Ian asks, growing more confused by the moment. 

Mickey heaves an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes. He's gonna go with his gut on this one. He's 99% sure Ian plays for his team, and he'll be damned if he's gonna leave this house without finding out if he's right. 

If he's gonna burn his shit to the ground, he may as well go all out. He gives Ian a dark smile, turning toward him and heaving a leg over his lap, straddling a thunderstruck Ian. 

"Said I don't wanna talk." Mickey repeats, caging Ian in with a hand on either side of his head. "Plenty of other shit we can do with our mouths." 

Ian is gobsmacked, his mouth hanging open like a fish. This can't be happening. The bar was a mistake, a drunken accident. A slip. There's no way Mickey is into him. Life doesn't work that way.

Ian's inner diatribe is cut off when Mickey dips his head down, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. 

Okay, yeah. This is happening. 

Ian takes a moment to thank the Gay Gods for this gift before reciprocating the kiss with fervor. His hands come up, fisting the fabric of Mickey's shirt as he licks into his mouth. Fuck, he feels so good, tastes so good. Ian is losing it already. 

Mickey can't believe how good it feels to be on top of Ian like this. He's fucked his fair share of guys, had some pretty decent sex, but this right here is next level shit, and they haven't even taken their clothes off yet. Mickey rolls his hips experimentally, watching Ian's face for clues. Mickey has no idea if Ian's ever even been with another guy before. Doesn't know Ian's preferences, or if Ian even knows that shit. But as he dry humps him into the couch like a middle schooler, Ian's head falls back against the couch cushions, eyes pinched shut tight. His hands slide down Mickey's back and land on his ass, gripping hard, pulling Mickey forward harder, thrusting his erection up against Mickey's clothed ass. 

Bingo. 

Mickey chuckles breathlessly, burying his face in Ian's neck as he rolls his hips. He bites Ian's neck, drowning in the sounds that are slipping past Ian's lips. Fuck, if he sounds this good just fooling around, what's he gonna sound like when they actually fuck? 

Mickey can't wait to find out. 

Ian groans again, forcing his eyes open. Mickey is watching him carefully. Ian gives him a small smiles, squeezing his ass again. "Um, you've done this before, right?" Ian asked, unsure if he's ruining the moment or not. 

But Mickey just gives him a small smile of his own, nodding. "Yeah. You?" 

Ian flexes his fingers on Mickey's glorious ass. Damn, he's been staring at that shit for six months now, wondering what it would feel like under his fingers. 

The reality is exponentially better than the fantasy. 

Ian nods again. "Yeah. I mean, I've known forever, just don't know how to say it." Ian says, knowing he agreed not to talk about it. 

"Me too." Mickey sighs. He still can't believe he's being so open with Ian. It's like it just flows out of him around this guy. Mickey's still not sure if that's a good thing or not. 

So he drags their attention back to something simpler, something easier to navigate. "I like to get fucked." he says bluntly, the alcohol and weed in his system obliterating his hesitation. "You down for that?" 

Ian knows he's gaping at Mickey like an utter moron. He can feel his face curling into a stupid, wide smile as he nods like an idiot. 

What is this, homo christmas? Ian has got to be dreaming. Or maybe dead. This has to be heaven, right?

"Yeah, fuck." Ian groans, pulling Mickey to him for another sloppy kiss. Their tongues tangle filthily outside their mouths as Ian bits and sucks at Mickey's swollen bottom lip. Mickey makes an irritated sound of protest as Ian pulls back just enough to grip the bottom of Mickey's t shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it behind them on the floor. 

Mickey's chest is pale and muscular, and Ian's mouth waters at the sight of it. He leans Mickey back on his lap so he can bite at his collar bone. Mickey moans, pushing his chest further into Ian's face as Ian licks down his chest, pulling a nipple into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the nub, eliciting another moan from the man above him. 

Mickey moaning has go to be the sexiest thing Ian's ever heard. He wants to hear more. He wants to find out how many different ways Mickey sounds during sex. He wants to take him apart, bit by bit, with his mouth, his teeth, his cock. Fuck, he wants everything. 

"Bedroom." Ian murmurs against Mickey's skin. Mickey nods, sliding off Ian's lap and standing on shaky legs. 

"Lead the way." Mickey says, a little overwhelmed by this turn of events. He's fucked plenty of dudes, but not anyone he knows. Not since.... No. Fuck that. He's not going to think about Dale or Svetlana or his fucking father right now. 

He's going to focus on this moment. On Ian. Fuck everything else. 

He deserves this. He deserves this one moment. 

Ian walks down the hall, Mickey trailing behind him. He walks into a room at the end of the hall and Mickey looks around again. It's a nice place. Clean with framed posters on the walls. Expressionist art, some abstract shit. Mickey only knows cuz Mandy's an art major. He really doesn't understand any of that shit. 

His eyes are drawn to a bookcase under the window. There is a long line of framed photos standing along the top of the shelf. Mickey recognizes some of the people from the neighborhood. Lip is there, so is Frank. And what's her name? Fiona? Yeah, that its. He went to school with the older Gallaghers, before he got locked up that last time. His eyes scan the photos absently, not really taking much in until he gets to the last on in the line. 

It's Ian, with a girl. A pretty girl, but a girl nonetheless. She's got dark hair and hazel eyes. She's petite, well over a foot shorter than Ian, maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. Ian has his arm slung over her shoulder, and she's got her arms wrapped around his waist. She's staring at him with this moony, love filled expression on her face. 

Mickey feels his gut twists and he looks away, angry at himself all of the sudden. 

"Hey." Ian says quietly, coming up to stand behind Mickey. He wraps his arms around his waist, pulling Mickey against his chest. "It's just us. C'mon." 

Mickey nods, turning in Ian's arms and opening his mouth for the kiss he knows is coming. Ian presses his lips to Mickey's wasting no time in ramping it up, tongue pushing insistently inside his mouth. He steers Mickey blindly toward the bed, and when the back of Mickey's legs hit the frame, he lets Ian push him down on the plush mattress.

Mickey stares up in awe as Ian strips his shirt first, then his pants, and finally his boxers. Holy hell, Mickey's never seen a dick that pretty outside or porn. He didn't know they existed in the wild. 

"C'mon." Ian whines, actually whines, standing at the end of the bed in all his naked glory."Take your fucking pants off." 

Mickey huffs out a laugh, shaking himself out of his cock-induced stupor. (seriously, he needs to get his mouth on that thing.) He lays down on the bed, but before he can do anything, Ian is on him. Ian's hands whip up, making quick work of Mickey's fly. He pulls his jeans and boxers down together, throwing them off the side of the bed, then he is on Mickey again. 

He settles over Mickey completely, their naked bodies touch for the first time, and Ian thinks he dies a little. Mickey's skin is so soft, jesus. So warm, feels so good under his hands. 

Ian runs his fingers down Mickey's chest, along the cut of his hip and around his body to grab at that perfect fucking ass. He groans low in his throat, rolling his hips down into Mickey's, their hard cocks sliding together. 

"Mmm, fuck." Mickey groans out as Ian sucks a mark onto the base of his neck. It doesn't even occur to Mickey to tell him to stop. Doesn't remember in that moment that he never lets anyone mark him like that. All he can think of is that it's so unfair that Ian has his mouth on him. Mickey wants a fucking taste. 

So he bucks his hips up hard, sending Ian careening sideways on the mattress. Mickey takes advantage of his moment of surprise, clamoring on top and pinning Ian's hands above his head. 

Ian stares up at him with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of lust and amazement. Mickey doesn't know what to do with that look, so he kisses him, hard. He holds Ian down against the mattress, sliding his tongue into his mouth, getting drunk all over again on the taste of Ian. 

Ian's an amazing kisser, and now that Mickey knows that, he's not sure how he's ever gonna stop. Ian bites Mickey's bottom lip, tugging on it playfully before letting it snap back into place as he loses himself in the kiss again. 

Ian can't use his hands, they are clenched tight into fists above his head. He rolls his hips up as best he can from this position, a little thrill shooting up his spine with every groan he pulls from the man above him. 

Mickey kisses Ian until he's breathless and painfully hard, leaking all over Ian's stomach. He finally releases Ian's wrists, sliding down his body to get where he really wants to go. He licks and nips his way down Ian's torso, leaving a trail of small red marks and bruises in his wake. He seals his mouth around a spot on Ian's inner thigh, just as he finally takes that monster dick in his hand. Ian moans, loud, bucking up into Mickey grasp, squirming at the odd sensation of Mickey sucking a hickey into such sensitive spot. 

Mickey multitasks like a champ, jerking Ian's cock while he sucks the darkest hickey ever into the tender flesh right near his ass cheek. He pulls away with a satisfied smirk, that shit will be there for weeks. 

Good. Let everyone know Mickey was here. 

The possessive thought takes Mickey by surprise, but he pushes it away, not ready to deal with that shit just yet. He settles more comfortably over Ian's body, still lazily stroking his cock. Mickey's own cock is hard and forgotten, pressed between his own thigh and the mattress. But that shit can wait, Mickey's got more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. 

He pulls on Ian's dick slowly, sliding his lips teasingly along the shaft. He drags his tongue along the head, groaning low at the taste of Ian's precome on his tongue. Delicious, just like Mickey anticipated. 

He smiles to himself as he guides Ian's erection into his mouth. Mickey's pretty much drooling for it at this point, can't drag it out any longer. 

Ian exhales loudly as Mickey takes him in his mouth. Holy fuck. Ian swears he blacks out as Mickey starts to bob his head, taking Ian a little deeper with each pass. 

Mickey loves sucking cock. He's loved it since the first time he ever did it, even if the memory is a little fuzzy due to how wasted he'd been. He loves the taste of it, loves the weight of a hard dick on his tongue, love the way it stretches his lips, fills his throat. Loves the power he feels, the control he has over the other guy while he pulls pleasure out of him with his mouth alone. It's a heady power trip, and Mickey fucking lives for it. 

Going down on Gallagher, of course, is a whole new world. He's so responsive, so vocal, it's turning Mickey the fuck on. 

"Yeah, fuck." Ian moans, doing his best not to fuck up into Mickey's mouth. "You look so good, fuck. Hottest shit I've ever seen." he reaches up and grips Mickey's hair tight as Mickey drags his lips up and down his shaft. "God, feels so good. You're so good. Can't wait to fuck you." 

That's it, Mickey can't take anymore. He pulls off slowly, swirling his tongue around Ian's swollen, leaking head one last time before he climbs off him and drops down on the mattress next to Ian. 

Ian reaches for him immediately, not wanting any space between them. He wraps his arms around Mickey's body, pulling him flush against him again. Their bodies fit together perfectly, that's the first thing that Ian thinks when the come together like that. Ian moans into Mickey's mouth as he pulls him into another passionate kiss. 

Ian pulls away after a moment, running his tongue along Mickey's bottom lip before shuffling down the bed. 

Mickey stares down at Ian, biting the bottom lip Ian had in his own mouth moments before. He's got this dark, hungry look in his eyes that makes Ian impossibly harder. He feels like he's about to explode, but he's not done playing just yet. 

Ian kisses Mickey's stomach right above his belly button, a strangely tender action in the middle of this heated sexual encounter. His hand slips around the knob of the nightstand draw, pulling it open so he can blindly dig around inside for the lube and a condom. 

Ian is so busy licking and kissing at Mickey's midsection, it takes him a moment to notice the other man is laughing at him. 

"What?" Ian asks, looking up, confused. 

"What straight guy has Astroglide in his bedroom?" Mickey chuckles, unable to hold it in. 

"Straight people have anal sex." Ian replies indignantly. 

"Sure they do, but I don't see any straight people in this room, do I?" Mickey surprises himself by joking about something that has caused him so much pain, but the whole night feels so surreal, he can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. 

"No, I guess not." Ian says back, smiling. He's starting to think he's gone about his life all wrong. Because he's never felt this way before. This open and free, talking about his darkest secret with another person like it's nothing. 

Maybe it is nothing. Maybe Ian turned it all into this big mess for no reason except his own fear. 

It's such a relief. Ian feels like he can breathe for the first time. 

"Ian, man." Mickey says, nudging him with his heel. "Come on back, while we're still hard." 

Ian laughs, shaking himself out of the weird moment. He runs a hand up Mickey's thigh, gripping the muscle in his palm, massaging it tenderly. Mickey moans, arching his back. Ian pulls Mickey's leg out and up, resting it on his shoulder before doing the same with the other. When Ian is caged in on either side by Mickey's gorgeously thick thighs, he leans forward, licking a slow, wet stripe along Mickey's hole, up his perineum, to his balls, sucking one into his mouth, relishing of the feel of it, heavy in his mouth. He lets it fall from his mouth as he slowly drags his tongue along Mickey's ass, savoring the taste of the other man. He loses himself in the actions, feasting on Mickey like a starved man. 

Mickey makes this noise somewhere between a pained moan and a choked off sob. The sound drives Ian wild. 

Ian points his tongue, pushing as far inside as he can. Mickey whines and squirms above him, gripping his erection tightly in his hand as Ian pulls him apart with his mouth. 

Mickey is so lost in Ian's ministrations, he doesn't even here him open the lube. His body jerks, surprised, when Ian's wet finger starts circling his hole. 

"Mm, c'mon. Don't tease." Mickey ground out, thrusting his hips down on Ian's finger. Ian smiled against Mickey's skin, sliding his finger in slowly as he went back to lapping at his hole. 

Mickey was losing his mind. Ian was eating him out like nothing he'd ever experienced. His tongue was everywhere, doing things to Mickey's body he didn't even know were possible. Mickey had to grip his dick tightly at the base twice to stave off his impending release. Ian fingered him slowly, adding a second finger after long minutes of playing and prodding. 

Mickey jerked hard, a loud moan slipping past his chapped lips as Ian grazed his prostate. He could hear Ian chuckle, the sound muffled by Mickey's ass. 

"Ian, c'mon. Enough fucking foreplay. Fucking fuck me, man. I'm gonna come if you don't." 

Ian sat up, his fingers slipping from Mickey's ass. Ian wiped his hands on the blanket, grabbing the condom and ripping the package with his teeth. He spit the corner onto the floor, rolling the rubber down his dick, before grabbing the lube and slathering it all over his aching erection. He wondered what it would feel like to fuck Mickey raw. Probably be the most incredible feeling ever. 

Maybe he'd find out, someday. 

While Ian was fantasizing about raw-dogging Mickey, the other man had rolled over onto his hands and knees, presenting his ass to Ian on a silver platter.

Ian's mouth watered at the sight, but he also put 'fuck Mickey face-to-face' on his brand new to-do this. 

Someday. 

Ian shuffled them up the bed until Mickey was resting on his elbows near the head of the bed and Ian was right behind him. He ran a hand along the curve of Mickey's perfect ass, up his muscular back, to settle on his broad shoulder. He flexed his fingers, watching with hungry eyes as Mickey's back arched and his head hung low between his shoulders. 

"Ian...." Mickey sighed. And no one had ever said his name like that before. Ian moaned just from the sound of Mickey's voice. So raw, so vulnerable. Fuck. 

Mickey knows he sounds like a bitch in heat right now. But he'll worry about that shit later, once this ache has been satiated. Once his dick stops throbbing and his mind is clear again. Right now all he can think about is how badly he needs Ian inside him. 

"Please." he hears himself whisper. 

"Sssh." Ian soothes, "Okay." 

Mickey holds his breath when he feels the head of Ian's dick pressed up against his wet, stretched hole. He lets it out slowly as Ian starts to push his way inside. 

The stretch is unlike anything Mickey's ever felt before. No toy or dildo or other man has ever felt like this. Mickey's breath hitches and he forgets his own name as Ian just keeps pushing. Ian has a hand wrapped tight around Mickey's shoulder, the other gripping his hip hard as he pushes and pulls gingerly, until with one final rock of his hips, he's fully seated inside Mickey. 

"Holy shit." Ian whispers, and if Mickey were of sound mind right now, he'd laugh. Cuz, yeah. Holy fucking shit. 

After that first initial thrust, Ian is like a man possessed. He fucks Mickey frantically. He usually has more control than this, usually level headed and aware, but with this, with Mickey under him moaning and rocking with him, Ian is totally lost. It's like an out of body experience, and Ian never wants to come down.

Ian is murmuring all kinds of shit to Mickey. Telling him how good he feels, how tight he his, how much Ian loves the feeling of being inside Mickey's tight fucking ass. 

Mickey drowns in it, soaking up the praise like a fucking sponge. He's usually not the kind of guy to be into that mouthy shit. Talking in bed always seemed weird and unnecessary before. But with Ian, it feels good. Feels fucking amazing, actually. 

"Fuck....yeah." Ian ground out, fucking into Mickey wildly, his fingers gripping Mickey's flesh hard, pulling him back on his dick with every forward thrust. "Feels so good. Take me so good. You like that? You like me fucking you?" Ian can't shut up to save his life. His mouth is running of it's own accord, but he's got no desire to stop it. The reaction he's getting from Mickey tells him he's not the only one that's into it. He leans forward, moving on instinct, licking and sucking along the back of Mickey's neck. Mickey shivers, moaning uncontrollably. Ian grins against his skin, sinking his teeth into the meat of his shoulder. Mickey yelps in surprise, but doesn't pull away. If anything he moves against Ian more vigorously. Ian leans back, eyeing the indentation of his teeth on Mickey's shoulder with a swell of possessive pride. 

Mickey is shaking, throwing his hips back as hard as he can, moaning like a fucking porn star. "Fuck yes! Right there, don't stop." 

"Yeah, c'mon. Take it." Ian growls. 

"Then fucking give it to me." Mickey laughs breathlessly. His laughter morphs into a moan when Ian digs his fingers into his hair, pulling his head back sharply as he snaps his hips violently. 

"Like that?" Ian chuckles darkly. 

"Fuck yeah." Mickey growls, backing into Ian's thrusts with all his power. He's close to the end. He can feel it. All the hair on his body is standing straight, his balls are tight, his dick is leaking hard all over Ian's comforter. He's almost there, but he doesn't want to jerk himself off, afraid he'll fuck up Ian's rhythm and ruin the whole thing. So he just grits his teeth and goes along for the ride. 

"Jesus Christ." Ian moans, his hand slipping off Mickey's hip to reach around and grip his erection. Mickey marvels for a moment at how Ian can seemingly read his mind, but that thought is obliterated as Ian starts stripping his cock in time with his thrusts, angling his hips one way and the other until Mickey goes rigid beneath him. Wave of white hot pleasure shoot through his body, and he swears he blacks out for a moment. 

"Fuck, right there. Fuckin' give it to me." Mickey practically sobs. 

Ian growls again, a low, feral sound ripping from his chest as he mounts a final assault on Mickey's body. He pounds into him, watching with rapt attention as his dick slides in and out of Mickey's tight little hole.

It's by far the hottest thing Ian's ever seen, and he's not sure if it's because Mickey's ass is so nice, or if it's just because it's Mickey in general, but either way, Ian's unraveling quickly. He jerks Mickey off hard and fast, trying to keep in sync with his stuttering hips.

"Fuck." Mickey chokes out. "Don't stop, I'm gonna come." 

Ian grins, licking his lips as he fucks Mickey hard. 

Mickey's whole body tenses up, his head flying back as he pushes back against Ian's thrusts. An embarrassing little whimper slips past his lips, and then he's coming. His whole body quivers with it, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him as he shoots his load all over Ian's comforter without remorse. 

Ian watches, enthralled as Mickey comes apart beneath him. Mickey collapses forward on his stomach and Ian follows him down. He runs his hands down Mickey's body, resting on his hip as he chases his own release. Ian buries his face in Mickey's neck, inhaling deeply as he succumbs to the pressure, shooting deep inside Mickey. He comes hard, his moans muffled by the muscles of Mickey's neck. Ian bites down hard, rolling his hips slower and slower until he's totally sated and spent. 

Mickey lets him lay there, pinning him to the mattress for a moment. The weight and pressure of Ian on top of him, inside of him, is nice in a way Mickey has never experienced before. That is until he can't breathe.

"C'mon, you ginger giant. Don't ruin my post-orgasm bliss with fucking asphyxiation." 

Ian laughs, finally rolling off Mickey. He pulls the condom off gingerly before dropping it in the trash can beside his bed and settling next to him in bed. He lights up a cigarette and passes it to Mickey before laying back against the pillows, a hand tucked behind his head, another resting on his stomach. "You know, not to be rude or anything, but I'm kind of surprised you know the meaning of that word." 

Mickey chuckled, smacking Ian with the back of his hand. "That's some serious Milkovich discrimination right there." he takes a long drag of the cigarette before passing it over with a smile.

"Well, if anyone knows about discrimination it would be a Milkovich." Ian laughed before he could remember himself. He glanced over at Mickey, worried he'd ruined the whole night with his careless words, but when he locked eyes with Mickey he was still smiling. 

Mickey was beautiful when he smiled. 

But Ian would keep that to himself for the time being. He smiled back, reaching for Mickey, a little hurt when the other man pulled away, moving to sit up. 

"Hey, where are you going?" Ian said, stubbing out the cigarette and sitting up too. He didn't bother to cover himself, feeling no need to hide from the other man. 

"I was thinking I should head home?" Mickey replied, more of a question than a statement. 

"That wasn't the deal." Ian reminded him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to bed. He tugged and dragged him until he was reluctantly nestled under Ian's arm, pressed up against his chest. 

Mickey felt uncomfortable at first, squirming around like his skin didn't fit anymore. He'd fucked plenty of guys, but never once had he participated in a post-coital cuddling session. But Ian was relentless, and Mickey soon stopped wiggling, surrendering to the unexplained force that was Ian Gallagher. 

They lay there for a long time, Ian running his hand slowly up and down Mickey's shoulder while Mickey rested his palm over Ian's heart, finding comfort in the steady pulse beneath his fingers. 

"I have a girlfriend." Ian whispered, after a long moment of stillness between them. 

"Well, I have a wife." Mickey retorted quietly. The weight of his situation crashing down on him once again. "But she's leaving me." he added on, just as quiet. "For a lesbian hairdresser." 

Ian laughed, he didn't mean to, but he did. The absurdity of it all hitting him all over again. Mickey laughed too, because only he would have a life this fucked up. 

"I don't love her." Ian said after they settled down. "I could never love her." 

"Cuz of her pussy?" Mickey asks, looking at Ian with a totally straight face. Ian huffed another laugh, pulling Mickey closer, kissing the top of his head.

"Yeah, I guess so." 

"I get that. Got no taste for it myself." Mickey muttered bitterly. 

"Yeah, how'd that happen, if you don't mind me asking." 

"Eh, that's a story for another day." Mickey replied, scratching his nails down Ian's chest lightly, delighted when the other man shivered. 

"Is there gonna be another day? Is there gonna be a next time?" Ian asked quietly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer to that question. Ian's not ready for this to end. 

He is hit with a realization in that moment: he likes Mickey. Like likes him, likes him. It's more than just raw physical attraction. Much more. Even though this is the first time they've ever hung out. When you know, you know. 

Mickey was quiet for some time, just running his hands up and down Ian's chest, deep in thought. Finally, he buried his face in Ian's chest, inhaling deeply before tilting his head back and gazing straight into Ian's eyes. 

"I'm down for a next time if you are." he said. 

Ian nodded, smiling. "I am." 

Mickey smiled, feeling oddly relieved. He doesn't know what he would do if Ian said he wasn't interested in seeing him again. Mickey's never been so instantly attracted to someone before. 

He's surprised to find he doesn't hate it. 

"There's a lot of shit we still need to figure out, though." Ian reminded them both. "I gotta figure out what to do, with Maggie and coming out and all that." 

"Yeah, I'm not quite ready to come out or whatever." Mickey said. "But Svet's moving out, so that's the first step, I guess." 

"So, we're gonna see how this goes, me and you?" Ian asked, attempting to keep his voice even and failing. He sounded like such a desperate little girl, but tried to push through the embarrassment of it all. 

Mickey just smiled. Ian was such a little puppy. Mickey is enamored with it, even if he kind of finds it ridiculous. 

"Sure." Mickey smiles, shocked at how easily he gives into Ian and his stupid face. This could bode very badly for Mickey in the future. 

But he's willing to take that risk. 

He finds that he might just be willing to risk a lot for Ian. That notion is equal parts incredibly exciting, and ridiculously terrifying. 

But fuck it, what is life without a little risk? 

"So what do we do about the girls?" Ian asks after another moment of mostly comfortable silence between them. 

Mickey tilts his head up, locking eyes with Ian once more. His face is so open and hopeful, looking at Mickey likes he's worth a damn. 

"We'll figure it out. Don't worry about them right now." he says easily. "Bros before hoes, remember?" 

Ian laughed, the uncertainty and stress of the moment imploding in a sea of laughter. 

"Fucking right." Ian chuckled, pulling Mickey to him once more, meeting him in the middle for a sweet tender kiss, his tongue sliding along Mickey's lazily. 

Mickey pulled away, all hint of teasing gone. " But seriously, we'll figure it out, man. Okay? Just try to get some sleep."

Ian nodded, kissing Mickey once more before turning around to flick off the lamp off before settling back into bed, Mickey curled around his waist, head resting on his chest. 

Mickey wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but he is kind of amazed at how not scared he feels. 

He cuddles closer to Ian, letting the slow steady beat of his heart lull him into the first uniterrupted, dreamless sleep he'd had in ages.

**Author's Note:**

> what a fun little universe. i've never written both ian and mick in the closet before. it was harder than i anticipated, but i'm glad i did it. no better way to flex your writer's muscles than to step out of your comfort zone.


End file.
